Gedicht
Joy Goswami
THEY ARE THE ASHEN ONES. THEY ARE THE EXTINGUISHED.
They are the ashen ones. They are the extinguished.They are smouldering wood
Half-burned and buried under layers of slime
they have been escaping for ages.
Each second grows a hundredfold in passing
It’s my job now to dig their beds
To tuck them in tenderly under sheets
under coverlets of mud
They are our mothers our fathers. I must find their bones
I must dig hundreds of graves holes bunkers I must
rummage through ages of sorrow anger ash and blood.
© Translation: 2005, Sampurna Chattarji
THEY ARE THE ASHEN ONES. THEY ARE THE EXTINGUISHED.
© 1999, Joy Goswami
From: Surjo-Pora Chhai
Publisher: Ananda Publishers, Kolkata
From: Surjo-Pora Chhai
Publisher: Ananda Publishers, Kolkata
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THEY ARE THE ASHEN ONES. THEY ARE THE EXTINGUISHED.
From: Surjo-Pora Chhai
THEY ARE THE ASHEN ONES. THEY ARE THE EXTINGUISHED.
They are the ashen ones. They are the extinguished.They are smouldering wood
Half-burned and buried under layers of slime
they have been escaping for ages.
Each second grows a hundredfold in passing
It’s my job now to dig their beds
To tuck them in tenderly under sheets
under coverlets of mud
They are our mothers our fathers. I must find their bones
I must dig hundreds of graves holes bunkers I must
rummage through ages of sorrow anger ash and blood.
© 2005, Sampurna Chattarji
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